Spanish
by blueowls
Summary: Brittany x Santana. //"As a Spanish teacher, Will Scheuster knows it's inevitable that the first thing high school kids seek out when they sign up to take a foreign language is the curse words."//


**Author Note:** I apparently think Santana's the cursing type.

And for anyone who doesn't know major details about American high schools, language classes usually range from levels one, two, three, and four. One to three can be regular or honors, and four is usually AP (advanced placement), which is a lot higher then honors and usually taken the last year of high school. AP tests are taken at the end of the course, and the grade ranges from one to five, with five being the hardest grade to get.

You don't need to memorize any of that, but it's helpful to know.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Spanish**

As a Spanish teacher, Will Scheuster knows it's inevitable that the first thing high school kids seek out when they sign up to take a foreign language is the curse words. He stops dead in his tracks, brow furrowing in confusion as he pauses in the hallway and stealthily eavesdrops on two students leaning against the lockers and talking.

But used correctly and with a perfect accent? That's new.

The first day of Spanish IV AP, Will almost drops his coffee when he sees Brittany and Santana sitting together in the back of the class. It's not the fact that the blonde's arms are looped around the other girl's neck and that she's leaning in so close it looks like she's almost kissing her instead of whispering something in Santana's ear, but more that Santana's skipped most of Spanish two her freshman year and still ended up in the highest level of Spanish at McKinley her sophomore year. And that Brittany made it into AP _anything_, let alone a foreign language.

And now they're chattering in rapid-fire Spanish that Will himself can only barely comprehend, because as much as it hurts to admit it, he's no native speaker. And, really, part of the reason that he stops is that he hears _puta_ closely followed by Rachel's name before Brittany's sparkling laughter drowns out the rest of their conversation.

These are his glee kids, and hearing them tear each other down hurts. Santana hasn't been showing up to his classes, either, so what better time to talk to her about it then when after school's out and before glee starts?

"Santana," Will says, approaching with a wavering grin on his face. The two turn to stare at him, the smiles dropping from their faces. "You haven't been to Spanish in two months."

He leaves Brittany out of this for now, because when the blonde _does_ show up, she sits at the back of the room looking hopelessly lost without the other girl, staring forlornly at the AC vent in the ceiling or unashamedly copying homework off of whoever's sitting next to her.

"Oh, don't give me that look," the Cheerio snaps, cocking a hip and crossing her arms, and Will actually backs up a little. She tilts her chin up defiantly, smirking, and the blonde looks at him with that blank but somehow condescending look that makes him feel like a bug under a microscope. "The only reason I didn't show up for most of your classes was because I learned all that shit when I was two."

Will has to admit that even more then Quinn or Sue, Santana is the one who intimidates him the most. He figures it must be a confidence thing, because she's not that big. She has presence, like Rachel does, although he's sure she would be insulted by that comparison.

He motions toward Brittany, only managing to stammer, "And... you?"

"I speak Dutch," the blonde says matter-of-factly, completely missing his current point although she answers a question that had been nagging him since the beginning of the year. "Spanish is easy in comparison."

"I mean, do you two plan on coming to class every day now?" he asks, hoping that he can prod them into taking the right path. Because if children are confronted and see the error of their ways, they'll change for the better. Right?

"Are you serious?" Santana snorts, a hand now on her hip and an eyebrow arching dismissively. "Bitch, _please_. I'll take the AP test at the end of the year and pass with a five. _Without_ studying."

"I'll come to your study sessions at the end of the year," Brittany offers, draping herself fluidly against Santana's arm, and Will is flabbergasted that she can make him feel as if she's doing him a favor. "But I'm with Santana on this."

They leave him standing stunned in the hall, and Will is only thankful that what he can catch of their conversation as they saunter away contains neither cursing nor his name.


End file.
